Embossed Sunshine~

A bedazzling yellow that explodes after an exciting event. Carries the ecstatic sentiment of a fresh moment, relaying the positive neurons in an exchange.

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We resumed English lessons this morning.

Me and Leonardo, I mean.

Even if it means that tsunamis of red will drown me. Or that his aura will trap me. Or that I'll have to deal with massive amounts of energy bullets my way. I find that I don't really care anymore.

For some odd reason, I feel like he needs me.

He doesn't even want to be an Olympian. I mean, he does. He likes gymnastics, loves the unbeatable floating sensation of a good flip. He enjoys competition to a certain degree and loves to exercise. Abs in particular. Abs he prefers to do over all other conditioning. He tells me he can do five hundred sit-ups in under ten minutes. I believe it.

But other than that, he doesn't feel compelled to win. He understands his talent and wants to perfect his gymnastics, but doesn't care about medaling. His father does.

Enough on that.

This morning, we were sitting next to each other on my bed. The English book was between us. It was a little after 6:30. Our lesson went by fast, and he picked up all the nuances of pronunciation relatively fast. Nothing out of the ordinary for his aura.

Until we had to leave to go to practice.

"Let's walk together." He suggested. I opened my mouth to agree, until I realized Kan's order.

'No fraternizing with the enemy.'

I've been carrying out the order pretty well since then. Keeping myself distanced from Costa at practice is simple. Just don't look at him or think about speaking to him. As long as Kan is watching, I cannot talk throughout our training.

"Sorry Leonardo. I can't. Remember, my coach?"

He gave me an odd look then, as if that didn't bother him. As if Kan were another obstacle that I should push out of my path. Clearly, Leonardo doesn't follow his father's orders all the time...so why should I?

"Your coach..." He started. "Oh."

He didn't understand the loyalty that Kan and I have built up through the years. The relationship between Kan isn't always the best, I guarantee, but he has made me who I am today. A near champion. And I still owe him my respect at the very least.

"Maybe..." I fumbled for words. What could I suggest instead? The power of invisibility was a blessing out of reach--an impossibility too good to have.

"Can you come to my room after practice?" Costa blurted out before I could suggest anything.

Floating reds hopped up and down in anticipation of my response. Oddly enough, I felt a warmth spreading to my cheeks, a kind of uncomfortable flush that one might feel after sitting face-up in the sun for five hours. It stung. It demanded.

It answered.

"Yes."

Leonardo nearly cheered. I raised my voice above the dancing red knick-knacks that swirled in the air around me.

"But only for a little while."

~

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~

"Grip up!"

Kan points at Jungkook's reddened hands. The Korean nods his understanding, hurrying to fetch his grips from the locker room. At the same time, he notices Leonardo slowing down his movements on the high bar to the bane of his coach.

Jungkook ignores the deep browns of disappointment that radiate off of Costa's father. He feels a sweeping, vicarious sadness at the blindness of Costa's father and the disregard for his son's emotions.

As Jungkook strides towards the lockers he feels grateful that his own father is supportive and receptive. Quite the contrast to his competitor.

His locker swings open with a thunk. Jungkook frowns, checking to see what made the noise. Maybe his roll-on Menthol fell?

"What...oh...oh my gosh!"

Jungkook peeks down at the fallen snack wrapper. He bends over quickly, lifting it up. Crunched in his hand is the same Brazilian chip brand as before, only the bag appears semi-mutilated from being shoved through the tiny locker vent.

He laughs.

Leonardo must have snuck this into his locker earlier today. Tossing the chip bag atop his pile of low-cal edibles, Jungkook grabs his grip bag. Chalk plumes from the bag and he swats lazily at it.

If in thirty years he gets some kind of respiratory disease from how much chalk he's inhaled since adolescent gymnastics, he wouldn't be surprised. A sardonic smile touches his lips as he imagines a doctor mentioning the reserves of chalk buried in his lung tissue. He takes up a song to hum, one of the lighter rock songs on his iPod.

The buckles on Jungkook's grips snap in tune to his humming. After he's finished, he slams his locker and turns to swiftly exit the room. Coach always prefers when he speeds.

"Mmmhmm...hmm...mhhhmm...oh!"

Interrupting his humming performance is a tall man who has just entered the locker room. Chipper eyebrows curl in fascination at the Korean's open face.

"Excuse me." Leonardo grins, moving aside for Jungkook to exit the door. But the hummer doesn't leave so easily.

"Hey."

"What?"

Jungkook's grips tap against his thighs.

"When did you put those chips in my locker?"

Instantly, a conniving ignorance spreads across Costa's features. "What? What chip bag?"

Jungkook shakes his head in mock disapproval. "You could have used my combination to get in, you know. Instead of smashing the bag through the vent. I told you my combination before."

A sheepish swing of arms and shrug of shoulders breaks the Brazilian's act. "Ah...well. I forgot the combination."

"Really?" A waterfall of cheery reds spills out of Leonardo's head, swooning for Jungkook. "You forgot it already?"

"Yes."

The conversation dies off, yet they stand there, lollygagging in the entrance. Saying not a word. Jungkook bites his lip, remembering Kan.

"Well...I have to go. Um..." Jungkook peers up at Leonardo and feels his hand energized at his hip. "You have chalk above your eyebrow. Here."

Carefully, the Korean ambles forward. Dark, attentive eyes bore into his face as he approaches, watching him with the intentness of a hunting owl. Jungkook's hand floats up, fingers splayed out as he rubs the smear of chalk off of Costa's forehead.

As he does so, the air around them minutely shifts. Jungkook feels the same deep, appreciative air he felt when hugging Leonardo the other day. A jolt of calm thunder rolls into his fingertip, but as soon as he removes his hand from Costa's face, it's gone.

He stumbles backwards, towards the doorway.

"Thanks, Jungkook."

"You're welcome."

Jungkook exits the locker room with a smile on his lips and a storm brewing in his mind.

~

~

"Those were some DAMN good releases if I ever saw any!"

McKayla tuts from her spot at his hip.

Currently, her and Jungkook are walking to the aerobic studio to work on flexibility. Even though all mentees at the Road to London camp are supposed to be supping right now, McKayla convinced him to sneak away. The coaches eat in separate rooms and wouldn't notice their absence...at least, that's what McKayla assured him.

"Those releases...you think so?"

McKayla nudges his side. "I know so! What are those even called?"

Jungkook bites back a smile. "Those ones are called Kovacs. I have one in my routine. So does Leonardo. He gets more height over the bar than I do."

The last portion about Leonardo he didn't mean to say, but it came out anyway. McKayla gives him an odd look, but doesn't press.

"The craziest release I have in my bars routine is a Geinger, but unlike you I kinda have two bars to watch out for...talk about difficult!"

McKayla swishes her bun to the side, and Jungkook rolls his eyes playfully. She opens the aerobic studio door for Jungkook, allowing him to enter first.

"Also, I wish I got to wear pants like you guys do. How is it fair that only men get to wear pants? That seems wild to me. Do you know how much leotard-stick spray women have to use at competitions so that our ass cheeks don't hang out of our leotards? It's abominable."

Jungkook uncomfortably clears his throat a few times, blinking heavily. As soon as McKayla meets his gaze she flicks him an innocent smile. He bursts into laughter, partly to clear the mental image of her using lots of posterior leotard-stick spray and partly because of her innate shamelessness.

"You're really..."

He stops short as she tosses a mat harshly at him. It smacks into his chest with a thunk, and he curls his arms around it like a peeved child. Pink confetti drools in the invisible field off of her lips as she challenges him to finish the sentence. He knows exactly what that location of aural density means.

"Anyway, let's get to stretching!" She chides, gliding to the middle of the room.

Her mat gets flattened unceremoniously by giddy feet. Jungkook carefully unrolls his mat next to hers about a meter away. Pausing to take a sip from his water bottle, Jungkook is only aware of the scene change when he glances down again.

Sneakily, she's moved their mats closer. Not by much. If he wasn't so observant of the small, seemingly inconspicuous details of the world, he would have missed it.

"So." She kneels down on her mat. "Wanna start with a partner stretch?"

Cautiously, he descends onto the mat. Occasionally, he notices her make small glances at the doorway and the clock. It's as if she's worried someone will come in and spy them stretching together. Or she's measuring their time left. Jungkook cannot tell.

"Sure." Jungkook faces her. "What should we do?"

"Let's start with pike presses."

Jungkook nods, and soon their feet are flat against each others. Neon blue Adidas tennis shoes wiggle against purple Nike's. Their legs stretch out in straight lines, muscles taut under their warmups.

"You first."

Jungkook holds out his hands for her to take. She grips them hard, and he pulls her chest down until her nose falls in between her knees. A few harsh tugs later, and it's his turn. Mckayla yanks him until his chest is flush against his thighs, hamstrings burning with the pull. He laughs at the harshness of her stretching.

Her pink grows stronger.

"Alright." Jungkook unlatches their hands, roughing up his hair. "What now? How about we do that standing shoulder one?"

McKayla rolls her eyes. "How do you expect we do that one? You're taller than me."

"We'll figure it out."

Jungkook curls his legs under him, rising gracefully. He reaches out for McKayla's hand. Her strong grip matches his, squeezing each finger thoughtfully.

"Okay, now open your shoulders." Jungkook hinges at the waist so that both of their connected bodies form a makeshift back tabletop. It's a nice shoulder stretch. They breathe into it, going deeper.

"Your shoes look funny." McKayla comments. Since both of them have nothing to look at but their feet in this position, the comment isn't unexpected.

"So do yours." Jungkook kicks his foot out, tapping his neon blue shoe against hers.

"No they don't."

McKayla kicks back harder, nudging his foot backwards. Stumbling a bit in the stretch, Jungkook gets a rush of competitive energy.

"Yes they do."

He grits, squeezing her shoulders with his hands. His foot dives out to intercept her oncoming shoe, but as the motion proceeds, he uses his leverage to get a foot wrapped around her ankle.

"Hey!"

McKayla jerks forward. Jungkook draws her forth with his tugs, laughing hardily.

Soon, he has her petite body thrown over a shoulder.

"Put me down!" Her angry bite is filled with the popping bubblegum of entertainment.

"Nope." A few spins in front of the mirror later, she's punching his back. "Not until you tell me my shoes are perfect."

McKayla scoffs, squirming over his shoulder. "You're overprotective of your shoes, buddy! Fine...ugh. Fine. Of course. Your shoes are beautiful. There are no better shoes than yours. All hail Jungkook's shoes. Now put me down!"

Laughing like a boy who has duped the system, Jungkook obliges. Carefully, he lowers McKayla onto her mat, smiling at her flushed face. When she's up and on her feet again, she gives him a brusque shove before bursting into giggles.

"That wasn't stretching."

Pink fizzles around her lips, harder than ever.

"I know." Jungkook sits back down on his mat, star-struck by the fuchsia ribbons. "Let's stretch some more."

A few vague stretches that don't do much but bring them as close as possible later, McKayla breaks the silence between them.

"Hey, Jungkook?"

"Yeah?" Jungkook twists his head to look at her as she holds his elbows for a shoulder blade stretch.

McKayla sniffs a few times, then clears her throat awkwardly. The inflection that enters her voice is so uncharacteristic that Jungkook doesn't answer right away.

"Do you...like me?"

Jungkook swallows. "I already told you I did. Remember? When we standing in front of the locker room and I wanted your number."

"No, no...that didn't count then. I mean now. Now. Yeah, um. Do you like me? Like..."

McKayla trails off, letting his arms droop. She shifts on the mat, sitting cross-legged a good distance from him. Her dark eyes hold no sass or snappish brawn, only an obsequious regard for his answer.

A slime of dread washes into Jungkook's mind. He has to tell her the truth, yet can't lead her on. They live in different countries. Whatever they have going will have to end after the Olympics, so he can't get too close to her.

"McKayla, I...I do like you, it's just-"

"We're from different countries." McKayla speaks coldly. "Yeah, I get it. I just...well, I don't know what I wanted to suggest. I like you a lot and didn't want it to be weird between us or anything...but, oh...what am I saying..."

Jungkook senses the pink tendrils coiling back, returning to their owner out of disappointment. He nearly reaches his arms up to pull those beautiful bands back towards him where they'll guarantee her appreciation of him. He can't lose the cloud of pink around her, not when they still have three weeks left. An odd idea passes into his mind.

"McKayla."

"Yes?" She glances up in a paroxysm of hope.

"Can...we..." The words have trouble traveling to his lips. "Can we..."

"Yes?" McKayla is sitting up, staring holes into his pupils.

"I...hang on."

McKayla scoots forward. Irritation revived by his verbal inadequacy sparks fresh words to her mouth. "Spit it out! Also, you better not be leading me on. I get it if you don't like me-"

"McKayla, that's not what-"

"And I get it if you think I'm scary." She ruffles like a bird, hotly bugged by the memory of other people finding her scary. With this trip down memory lane she gives a pronounced hmph and tosses her arms down.

Jungkook rises on his knees.

McKayla looks away. "And you don't have to try and make me feel better about the situation, okay? I like you but I have to live with the reality that you aren't staying in America or London after this is over."

"Right." Jungkook breathes, examining the pink shreds that are beginning to dull. He inches forward.

She continues. "And well, I don't want to make myself a fool any more than I need to. It's kind of obvious you aren't into me as much as I am into you. But damn it if I'm going to let that affect our friendship! Even if you don't like me-"

"McKayla-"

"Or if you don't find me attractive-"

"When did I say-"

"Or even if you hate me, I'll still want--what...what are you doing?"

Jungkook climbs next to her, his mind intent on replenishing the pink. As he scoots closer, her eyes widen and the electrified field returns around her lips. Instinctively, she sucks in a breath, watching Jungkook carefully.

"I'm showing you how much I like you."

Before he can comprehend what his body is doing, he cups her cheeks with calloused hands and connects their lips in a hasty, desperate kiss.

~

~

"You can sit here if you want."

Leonardo Costa pats the edge of his messy bed, motioning for Jungkook to take a seat. Tired from a hard day of bar-work, Jungkook plops down and kicks his legs up on the fluff of blankets.

Despite the mess that clutters much of Costa's room, it feels more homely. Warm. Inviting. Less like the skin-surrounded dungeon of room 333. Even though the layout of most dorm rooms are similar, Costa's abode feels different.

Maybe the reason is its occupant.

Said occupant rifles around in the kitchenette, clanking bowls loudly against the counter surface.

"Jungkook!"

"Yes?" Jungkook lazily turns his mop of wet black hair to face his competitor.

"Do you want popcorn?"

Instantly, a negative, charcoal cloud speaks up from the bed in place of Jungkook. "No thanks."

Leonardo quietly takes this in. Jungkook chews the inside of his lips, knowing that the Brazilian will probably egg him into eating something during the movie. Usually, he has a protein-rich recovery shake after practice to limit heavy digestion before bed...and that's it.

However, today he skipped dinner with McKayla, so a little food wouldn't hurt. A caloric balance calculation he does quickly in his mind, coming to the conclusion that popcorn won't put him over his goal.

"Are you su-"

"Actually." Jungkook speaks at the same time as Costa. The shy timbre of his voice invokes a smile out of Leonardo. "Sure, I'll have some popcorn.

"Okay."

A few minutes later, Leonardo brings a huge bowl of buttery popcorn over to the bed along with a soda for himself and water for Jungkook. He carefully drags over the nightstand to act as a table for their food.

"So..." Jungkook begins, basking in the strong red rays of appreciation. "What movie are we watching?"

Leonardo glides up to the TV where he has a DVD player hooked up via various colored chords. A stack of movies sits on the floor next to the TV stand, and Jungkook notes them with fascination.

Kan would hate if Jungkook wasted his free time watching movies off all things. Unless those movies were about gymnastics or healthy habits.

"You can choose. I have a lot." Leonardo carries a good-sized stack over to the bed, and Jungkook peeks at them.

English titles like Hugo, Mission Impossible, Avatar, Gladiator, and Transformers settle under Jungkook's eyes. Costa must have purposely withheld any Brazilian films he had.

Jungkook has no idea what all of these are about other than the Transformers one, but he doesn't like action movies that much.

"Hmmm..." Jungkook blindly chooses a movie based on its picture. It doesn't look too intense based on the cover of a tiger, a boat, and a boy. "Life of Pi. I choose this one."

Leonardo Costa spares him an interesting glance. In his eyes swim a steady calculation. "Okay. I'll set it up."

After the movie starts to roll, Leonardo hops onto the bed. He quickly sprawls onto his side, opening his soda with a soft whoosh. Jungkook scoots over to make room for the Brazilian.

"Oops!" Leonardo realizes his hogging tendency and curls his body tight with a new awareness. "Sorry, I'll give you room. Sorry. Haha!"

Jungkook grabs the bowl of popcorn and places it between them. "It's no problem."

Silence envelops the two competitors as the movie travels into an intense ocean survival tale of determination. English subtitles roll across the screen, aiding the non-fluent speakers in understanding the dialogues. Thankfully, most of the movie has no dialogue.

Jungkook munches on his popcorn numbly, too drawn in the movie to taste much of it. The coloration, the emotion, the plot, the scenes! It's so thoughtfully executed, this film of overcoming and despair. He hardly notices the man sitting next to him as the movie carries his mind to different places.

"Incredible!"

Leonardo occasionally blurts out his reactions to the movie. Whether it's an exclamatory profession of admiration or a jibe of disgust, he's very vocal in his thoughts on the scenes. At one point, Jungkook has to shush him because of how interruptive the Brazilian's laughter is.

Before long, the container of popcorn is empty and both drinks are dry. The movie is drawing to an emotional close. Jungkook is so involved by the events unfolding that he barely recognizes when the space next to him falls silent.

When the end credits play, Jungkook yawns. His iPod reads 10:38 PM, way past his usual bedtime. As he stretches his tight arm muscles overhead, he swivels on the bed.

"Well, that was--oh."

Leonardo Costa is fast asleep, his head lolling against a neck pillow and a blanket tucked over his knees. Jungkook gapes at the sight.

Even in sleep, Leonardo seems intimidating. With his brows drawn over his eyes and the ghost of stubble over a sharp jaw, he is the epitome of masculine grace. A sleepy red hue floats serenely around the Brazilian's head, tempting Jungkook closer like a snake charmer.

Snores rise and fall from Leonardo's chest, settling softly against the bedspread. Jungkook stares.

"I'll just...clean up." Jungkook whispers, rising slowly off of the bed.

The empty popcorn bowl, soda can, and water bottle get set neatly by the sink. Looking around him, Jungkook notices the various other snacks, books, and little entertainments all around him. Off in the corner sits a weathered skateboard. In another corner, what looks like piles of questionably labeled fireworks sit in disorganization. A tiny stuffed bear lays on its side on the counter with a scribbled black marker heart on its stomach.

Jungkook wonders who gave the bear to Costa. His family? Maybe his mother.

A full laundry basket of dirty leotards, shirts, shorts and boxers lounges by the door. Dishes line the sink, stacked haphazardly in towers of multicolored cups and utensils. Jungkook's frown deepens as he peeks into the bathroom, surprised to see a handful of unmarked, orange pill bottles.

He turns away with a scrunch of the nose. It's none of his business.

Various dumbbells, exercise bands, and stretching blocks linger on the far side of the room. They look as if they haven't been touched in weeks.

His scrutiny of the room ends on Leonardo Costa's peaceful, upturned face. A billow of red urges Jungkook forward one last time. He doesn't stop himself, assured by the fact that the Brazilian is fast asleep.

Jungkook's knees bump against the bed. He reaches for the remote near Costa's chest and turns off the repeating title screen of the movie.

"Thank you." Jungkook whispers to the sleeping man, gesturing to the TV and bed. "For this."

He truly does appreciate the movie outing they had, even if days ago it would have seemed awkward to do. Now he would consider Leonardo his friend. If he were to tell his past self about this, that version of Jungkook would have told him it was impossible. Costa has always been the enemy--the unbeatable fiend of men's gymnastics.

One glance around the messy room proves the contrary. Jungkook maintains eye-contact with the stuffed bear on the counter, the scribbled black heart apparent even at a distance. This room belongs to no fiend, no foe...no evildoer.

Jungkook's hand gently tugs the blanket over Costa's sleeping form. After the blanket is settled, his hand makes its way up to Costa's face.

With a slow air of understanding, Jungkook's hand brushes a piece of hair off of the Brazilian's forehead. While he does so, Costa doesn't move a muscle. His slumbered breathing is as sure as the steps he takes down the vault runway. Powerful and precise.

Jungkook studies the rise of Costa's cheeks. Then, his gaze travels to and lingers upon the gradual slope of Leonardo's parted, red lips.

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath of self-realization and jumps back. He leaves room 334 without another glance at the bear.

~

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~

note from authAURA

hello!

a riddle for you today: what is black and white and red all over?

don't say a bleeding panda bear. that would be unfortunate. what? that's what you were going to say? for shame.

i was going to hold up my oreo cookies dipped in ketchup, but...ah, alas.

i'm disappointing people with my gruesome descriptions that sound straight out of a conspiracy theorist's blog site. so...what does this author's note have to do with the story? nothing. nothing again! i should be saying something about the story, right? nah.

you can read the newspaper for that. :)

also! by good grace, can you please reflect embossed sunshine today to make others happy? be positive and wild and yourself and never give that up, pls. thank you. i love you.

izzy.